Made Of Snow
by overcast
Summary: It's a little thing called death, and even nations must face it. Norway-centric.


_My care is like my shadow,_

_Laid bare beneath the sun._

_It follows me at all times,_

_And flies when I pursue it._

_I freeze and yet am always burned,_

_Since from myself another turns._

_I love and yet am forced to hate,_

_I seem stark mute inside I prate._

_Some gentler love must ease itself_

_Into my open mind_

_For I am soft and made of snow_

_Love be more cruel or so be kind._

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"He's gone, Norge."

Norway didn't look up from his piano, and instead looked from side to side, as if he had lost some trivial item needed to continue his practice.

Why did he use his old nickname? It had been so long, why now? Norway didn't mind that he phrased the announcement so simply, he knew as well as Denmark that the man could've announced Iceland's death via a 30 minute monologue, or by song, it didn't matter. But the nickname...

Denmark took a look around the dusty, sun-lit room that Norway had taken to calling home, then turned to leave, knowing better than to take one more step forward, or to even say goodbye.

Norway looked up at the departing man then started, his ever-present neutral look contorted into a more sorrowful one.

Iceland was dead, and all he could think of was a childish nickname.

"Denmark."

Denmark fluidly spun around and knelt on one knee in front of the seated man, taking his hand in between two of his own. Norway looked down at him with a look that the axe-wielder thought emanated a surprising (_terrifying_) amount of vulnerability.

"You don't..you don't..think I'm a bad person, do you? I just.." his breath hitched, then his gaze fixed on Denmark again, his eyes widened but dry."I..you, you've always loved me, right? I mean, not like Finland..but, you have, from the start?"

"Of course." Denmark brought Norway's hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to the palm.

Norway leaned back in his chair, then exhaled, closing his eyes and tilting his head skyward.

"To be myself, and to be a nation, is a far more glorious thing to witness, than to bear. Unlike you, I have always been humbled by the fact, that I was chosen, by God, to lead my people, to comfort them, to protect them." His voice started to waver, and tears found their way into his eyes.

"But I have never meant to live longer, than for their good..."

He opened his mouth twice more to speak, but said nothing.

He couldn't find the words. He never would.

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"He asked you if you loved him?"

Denmark looked down to the head at his shoulder. He had once said to Tino that one day even his beauty would fade. He had never thought he could be so horribly _right _about something.

" He's getting more and more senile by the day, it'll be his turn soon." Denmark said casually. He had already made peace with death, including the death of others. Sometimes he wondered if he wasn't still alive just because Tino needed him, and he still couldn't refuse the Finn a thing.

Finland shook his head in disbelief.

"We were all so naive, thinking we would last forever. Antonio's on his deathbed, Italy told me they don't think Ludwig has more than a year to live..that poor,_ poor _child." he finished breathily, even though Feleciano was a good many years older than him.

Denmark coughed.

"Well, you know what they say.."

"Immortality is a fraud?"

He gave Finland a hard look.

"Something like that."

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"He's been like this for around 10 hours now."

Finland worried his lip between his teeth, staring at the scene before him.

Norway was, against all odds, standing, right in front of the back wall of his room. His finger rested lazily between his teeth, and his body would periodically sway a slight bit.

It was as if he was completely enthralled with something on the wall facing him.

Finland stared, and dimly wondered if he could really say this was the death of someone he _knew_.

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_mother oh there's mother, always so happy, looks like the crops are doing well...oh, she's still so warm, i haven't even thought about her in so long, i wonder if she minds_

_ahh denmark is such an idiot, it's nice he's trying to make me feel at home though _

_i wish we could've had a beginning that fit us better_

_the war is over the war is over thank god oh thank god_

_the air tastes better than a grand feast and life has never been so beautiful_

_iceland, the only one who can truly call me a friend, and know i call him one too. ohh his laugh, no one else has even heard it_

_i wish there could've been so many more days like this one_

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"That ring Norway always wore... he fitted it with a clasp.."

Denmark picked up the blue and red piece of jewelry and examined it.

"Denmark, I don't think we should pick apart his personal belongings."

The taller man shrugged, knowing Norway wouldn't have given a shit, and opened it.

A flash of slight surprise passed over his face.

"He's hidden a picture of someone inside."

Finland raised his eyebrows in anticipation, still curious in his old age.

"Is it of you?"

Denmark closed the ring and looked at Finland normally.

"Berwald. Your husband."

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**AN: **

Based on the last bit of the movie, "The Virgin Queen", because I love Elizabeth and I love writing Norway and lovelovelove.:)

I hope I get some reviews for this, I don't like it when people whine for reviews but I have no idea what to think of this, so it'd be nice to

hear some feedback!

So much :'( in one fic.

Woooh so two ficettes in two days, not bad at all. Can you tell i've had a wee bit too much time on my hands lately?

Damn did they both write themselves though.

Sweden is already dead in this btw.

Omg 'Sweden' and 'Dead' should not be in the same sentence.:(

In this fic, nations can die of old age . And in my head younger men and women replace them, but i decided it wasn't necessary to

include in the fic. I thought since they all began around the same time, they'd all kick the bucket around the same time as well.

I blame this fic on seeing My Sister's Keeper yesterday, i was on the brink of tears the whole time.

Thanks for reading!:)


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